Return to Rivendell
by lindahoyland
Summary: Aragorn, Faramir and their wives and children pay a visit to Rivendell. A series of glimpses of their stay there.
1. Treasure Trove

**Title: Treasure Trove**

**Author Name: Linda Hoyland**

**Prompt: For many people, summertime brings the chance to travel for pleasure. Take your character on a trip to a place he or she has always wanted to visit. Write or create art about what happens. Also inspired by an idea of Shirebound's.**

**Summary: Aragorn shows Faramir around the library at Rivendell**

**Rating: G**

**Warnings: none**

**Beta: none**

**Author's Notes: For Shirebound as a token of gratitude for all her support during the BTMEchallenge. This is the first in a series of short stories written for BTME 14 that take place when Aragorn, Faramir and their wives and children visit Rivendell, which I intend to publish as a single story.**

**Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been, nor will be made from this story.**

Faramir stood on the threshold and looked round him in amazement. He had long dreamed of visiting Master Elrond's library. Today he was actually standing within its walls.

Aragorn nudged him gently, "There is no need to hold your breath! Enjoy exploring my foster father's collection."

"I hardly know where to begin," said Faramir. He finally dared to take a deep breath.

"I will show you around," Aragorn said. He smiled indulgently at the younger man's obvious delight in his surroundings. He walked over to a cabinet at the far side of the room and opened it. He carefully lifted out some ancient, yellowing parchments and placed them on a low table. "These are scrolls that Elendil brought with him from Númenor," he said.

"These came from the Star Island?" Faramir sounded amazed.

They did indeed. I believe some even came from Valinor and were brought to Númenor by the Elves."

"How wondrous!"

"You can touch them if you wish. I know you will be careful."

Faramir reverently ran a fingertip along the edge of one of the scrolls, an expression of sheer reverence upon his face.

Aragorn watched his friend's joy with considerable satisfaction. "You can spend as long in the library as you wish during your stay here," he said. "Feel free to treat it as your own. There are many manuscripts here that are found nowhere else, such as the story of the tragedy of Gladden Fields. There are also many books of Elven lore and of First Age history. When I was a boy, I used to love the illustrations of the Two Trees in one of the scrolls."

"And I thought my father's library was extensive!" said Faramir, finally tearing his attention away from the ancient scrolls."

"It is indeed the greatest library in the South," Aragorn replied.

"You were so fortunate to grow up surrounded by these priceless treasures," said Faramir.

"I suppose I was, but I fear I just took it for granted," Aragorn replied ruefully. "When I first left Rivendell, I was shocked to find how few books most folk owned. I am thinking of creating public libraries in Minas Tirith and Annúminas to give more of my folk a chance to enjoy books."

"An excellent idea!" said Faramir. "Maybe we could employ some of the soldiers who were maimed in the war to copy books."

"We could indeed," said Aragorn. "Many books here and in Minas Tirith could be made widely available to all who wished to read them."

"It was so kind of Master Elrond to leave his library behind," said Faramir.

"He only took anything that had sentimental value to him when he sailed," said Aragorn. "He can easily replace books and scrolls in the Blessed Realm. He felt that many of the volumes here, such as his books about healing, could yet do much good on Middle-earth long after he departed. He cared deeply for Men as well as Elves. I was honoured to have been raised by him and to know him well. One day, I shall have these books moved to a new home in Annúminas, but for the time being they are better off remaining here, at least until the rebuilding is complete. As you know, I have brought a few of the books with me in Minas Tirith, especially those about healing and a handful about lore."

"You have often lent those to me and those few volumes filled me with awe," said Faramir. "To think, though that I am standing today in Master Elrond's library! I have dreamed of visiting here for years. I shall spend most of my time here while I am at Rivendell."

Aragorn laughed. "You can indeed come here whenever you want, but do not forget that Éowyn and your little ones might wish to see you occasionally!"

"I have promised Éowyn to go riding with her on the morrow," said Faramir. "Maybe I can find new lore here to share with the children?"

"There is a feast of stories on these shelves," said Aragorn. "I shall leave you now to enjoy them." Still smiling, he went in search of his lady. Faramir was so engrossed in a volume of First Age history that he hardly noticed the King's departure.

TBC


	2. Dew Drops

**Dew Drops**

**Summary: During their trip to Rivendell, Aragorn and Faramir enjoy an early morning walk.  
>Rating: PG<br>Warnings: Brief mention of spiders  
>Beta: none<br>Author's Notes: Aragorn refers to an incident in "A Time to Reap".**

**Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been, nor will be made from this story.**

Aragorn was awakened by an early sunbeam streaming through the window. For a few moments, he lay there without moving, listening to the soothing sounds of the distant waterfall and birds singing outside the window.

It was too perfect an autumn morning to lie abed for long, though, and Aragorn desired to make the most of this rare visit to his childhood home. He slid from the bed, taking care not to disturb his still peacefully sleeping wife. There was no sign of the children being awake yet. No doubt, they were still tired out after the long journey.

Aragorn swiftly dressed and went outside into the gardens. They were not as he recalled them from his childhood, having fallen somewhat into neglect since Master Elrond's departure. He found their current wild beauty more to his taste, though. He had too many childhood memories of being scolded for accidentally damaging some carefully tended flowerbed while playing outside.

His footsteps crunched the autumn leaves that strewed the paths. It was a perfect autumn morning with a clear blue sky, high fluffy white clouds and just a hint of frost in the clear air. The dew bedecked grass and bushes sparkled like diamonds in the morning sunlight.

Aragorn rounded a bend in the path and realised he was not alone. Faramir had also risen early and was standing contemplating a hawthorn bush intently. He spun round when he heard the leaves crunching beneath Aragorn's feet.

"Good morning, my friend," said Aragorn. "I see you are up with the sun too. I hope you slept well?"

"I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow last night," said Faramir. "I can still hardly believe that I am actually visiting Rivendell."

"It gladdens my heart that I could bring you," said Aragorn. "Gondor should fare well enough in your Uncle's care for a few weeks."

"I did not wish to waste a single moment of my visit here," said Faramir. "I have left Éowyn and the children to sleep a little longer while I took a walk before breakfast." He returned to his contemplation of the bush.

"What has caught your attention there?" Aragorn asked.

Faramir stood aside so Aragorn could see what he had been looking at. "I was admiring the spider's web," he said. "Is it not most fair? I love the way the dewdrops glisten upon it. Is it not wondrous that so small and ugly a creature as a spider can create such a marvel?"

Aragorn studied the web for a few moments before replying. "It is indeed. I envy you that you can see beauty in a spider's web. I remember too well the hideous spiders' webs I saw at Mirkwood when I delivered Gollum there, and the tales Frodo and Sam told me of Shelob's lair. Then there was that monstrous spider we slew that stung you in Lossarnach."

"I know full well of evil spiders," said Faramir. "But I believe that when the Great Music was created, Eru intended spiders only for good purposes. It was Melkor, who corrupted them to his purpose. These humble common spiders do much good by catching flies, while their webs are surely as intricate as anything Vairë might weave in her tapestries. Gossamer silk adorned with dewdrops sparkling brighter than twinkling stars! "

Aragorn smiled and clapped his friend affectionately on the shoulder. "You are always quite the poet, melon nîn. Only you could wax so lyrical about a spider's web!"

"I shall show it to the children after breakfast," said Faramir. "I hope the sun will not have melted the dew by then."

"This talk of breakfast makes me hungry," said Aragorn. "Unlike the spider, I have no desire to catch my own this morning."

"I smelled bread baking when I passed the kitchens," said Faramir. "And the chickens here lay especially tasty eggs."

"Then let us go and break our fast," said Aragorn. "Our ladies should be up and about by now."

Side by side, the two friends strolled back to the Last Homely House.

TBC


	3. Falling Leaves

**Title: Falling Leaves**

**Author Name: Linda Hoyland**

**Prompt: Autumn Forest**

**Summary: Arwen is in a melancholy mood**

**Rating: PG**

**Warnings: none**

**Beta: none**

**Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been, nor will be made from this story.**

When Aragorn awoke the on the second morning of their visit, Arwen was not in their chamber. He quickly dressed and went in search of her. He had expected to find his lady with their children, or maybe with her brothers and grandsire. When she was nowhere to be found, he assumed that she must have gone riding with Faramir and Éowyn, but when the Steward and his lady returned from their morning ride, the Queen was not with them.

Aragorn began to feel a little worried. Though he never questioned her, his lady usually told him where she was going. It was also most unlike her to rise before him. His common sense told him that there were few dangers lurking at Rivendell. Nevertheless, he decided to go in search of her. What if some sort of accident had befallen his beloved wife?

He donned his cloak, went outside, and looked around him, listening intently. His keen hearing detected no cries of distress. He stood for a few moments trying to think where she might be. He directed his footsteps to where he had first beheld his beloved beneath the birches.

It was there that he found Arwen, just as he had done so long ago. Today, though, she was not singing. Her head was bowed and her footsteps dragged as she walked along the leaf- strewn path. A chill wind blew through the orange- clad birch trees and falling leaves swirled around her feet.

"Arwen, vanimelda!" he cried. She lifted her head to look at him and he could see that she was weeping. He stretched out his arms and she buried herself in his embrace. He gently stroked her hair.

"What ails you?" he asked her after a few moments.

"Summer is past and the leaves are falling," she replied. "Winter will soon be here."

"Rivendell is fair in every season," Aragorn replied.

"My mother loved to walk here in the springtime," said Arwen. "We would watch for the first primroses. Then later, we would gather daffodils, great armfuls of them to decorate the Hall of Fire with."

"I recall my mother liked to gather lavender from the gardens," said Aragorn. "How I wish we could show both our mothers the spring flowers in the Citadel or in Ithilien!"

"I remember one summer before I departed to Lothlórien, I would walk here with my father," said Arwen. "Little then did I think I would I would never see my mother and father again." Her voice trembled slightly.

"I miss my parents too," said Aragorn.

"You, though, will one day be reunited beyond the Circles of the World," said Arwen.

Aragorn's heart lurched violently. "Do you regret the choice you made, beloved?" he asked. His voice was unsteady now.

How could I regret our love and the children you have given me?" Arwen said fiercely. "Never!"

"Maybe it was a mistake to return here if it brings you such pain," said Aragorn.

Arwen shook her head. "It has given me such joy to see our children explore my childhood haunts," she said. "I would not have missed witnessing Faramir's joy in my father's library for the world, nor Éowyn's delight in the stables. It makes me happy too to see my brothers and my grandsire here with the children."

"Then what troubles your heart, my love?" asked Aragorn.

Arwen gestured towards the carpet of fallen leaves, swirling in the breeze. "My people are fading, even like scattered leaves. Slowly, Rivendell is decaying and the gardens returning to the wild. One day my brothers and grandsire will sail and their household with them. There will be none left who even recall Imladris in their songs and stories. We too will fade and die and be blown away upon the wind even as these fallen leaves are swept away before our eyes."

Aragorn gripped her hands and looked into her eyes. "We will not be forgotten, vanimelda," he said. "Be comforted, for we will leave our children behind with the memories we have given them. And those memories will be glorious as these autumn hues! Know too, that Ilúvatar gave Men a gift and not a curse. There is more than memory beyond the Circles of the World. The generations of Men are like the leaves, fresh and new with each spring."

Arwen reflected on his words for a few moments. Then she smiled through her tears. "You are indeed elven-wise, Estel," she said.

"I would need an elven lifespan to be truly elven-wise," Aragorn said ruefully. "Maybe Men reflect more on the passing seasons as they mirror the seasons of our lives. Your folk dwell forever in spring or high summer. I used to love autumn as a boy. I would walk amongst the leaves with my mother and enjoy the crunching sound they made underfoot. Then my mother would tell me to try and catch one as it fell."

Arwen reached out her hand and almost immediately caught a falling birch leaf.

Aragorn laughed. "You are much better at the game than I!"

"You try now," said Arwen.

000

Later that morning, Faramir became concerned that the King and Queen had not appeared for the noonday meal and went in search of them. He was surprised to find them both engrossed in trying to catch the falling leaves. He was about to slip away quietly when Aragorn caught sight of him.

"Come and see if you can catch a leaf, Faramir!" the King cried.

"I used to play that game with Boromir," said Faramir. "I have many happy memories. I should love to revisit my youth but the noonday meal awaits us."

"You will not escape my challenge so easily!" said Aragorn. "We will return here after we have eaten."

"Let us bring the children here this afternoon," said Arwen. "We shall have a contest to see who can catch the most leaves." She laughed merrily, her melancholy blown away like the leaves upon the autumn breeze.


	4. If Winter Comes

**When winter comes**

**Author: Linda Hoyland**

**Prompt: **** /poem/8500011-I-Sit-And-Think-by-J-R-R-Tolkien**

**Summary: Éowyn is not enjoying her visit to Rivendell.**

**Rating: PG**

**Warnings: none**

**Beta: none**

**Author's Notes: Ficlet. I imagine elvish music to sound a little like Gregorian chant and the music of Rohan to sound rather like Cossack songs.**

**This is the final chapter, but I hope to post a story soon set soon after these events. It is not impossible that I might add more chapters in future if the Muse inspires me.**

**Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been, nor will be made from this story.**

Éowyn returned from her morning ride in better spirits than she had set out in. The countryside around Rivendell was perfect riding country. She was enjoying the experience of riding horses trained by Elves. Not that any other steed could compare with her faithful Windfola, though, but these horses were undoubtedly special. Windfola was enjoying grazing in Rivendell's lush pastures after their long journey here.

She was about to go to change for the noonday meal when an Elf stopped her. "I trust you are enjoying your stay here, Lady Éowyn," he said.

"It is most pleasant," Éowyn replied. "My family and I are grateful for the hospitality shown to us at the last Homely House."

"We hope you will attend a music recital in the Hall of Fire this evening," said the Elf.

"I will be pleased to come if my children do not need me," said Éowyn. "My youngest has a slight cold, though, and might have need of me."

"We shall hope your child is well enough for you to attend," said the Elf before silently gliding away, or so it seemed to Éowyn.

The Princess of Ithilien groaned inwardly as she climbed a flight of stairs to her chamber. Truth to tell, apart from the riding, she was not greatly enjoying her visit to Aragorn's childhood home. Accustomed as she was to Arwen's silent way of moving around, it was nevertheless highly unnerving to be surrounded by strangers who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Then, she missed being occupied in the day-to-day management of her household and herds. There was little to do here when she was not out riding. Faramir was in his element and spent most of his time in the library, only emerging at mealtimes, or occasionally to join her on her longer rides. The children were occupied playing out of doors, supervised by their capable nursemaids. Aragorn and Arwen spent most of their time with their kin, going for long walks or showing their children the haunts of their own childhood. Éowyn found herself feeling out of place and rather bored and lonely. She also felt melancholy, but could not understand why that should be so.

Faramir greeted her warmly. After enquiring if she had enjoyed her ride he said, "Erestor has just told me that there will be a musical recital tonight. Is that not delightful?"

"I think I will stay with the children," said Éowyn. "I think Elboron is getting a cold."

"You cannot miss the chance to hear Elven music," said Faramir. "We have excellent nursemaids who would send for us at once if the children need us. Elboron does not appear ill, he just sneezed a few times this morning."

Éowyn supressed a sigh. She did not feel able to confide in Faramir that she found Elven music tedious in the extreme. He enjoyed it so much, just like Aragorn and Arwen. Faramir had told her that the musicians conjured up events of bygone days as if they were happening before the listener's eyes, but Éowyn had never had that experience. Maybe it was because she lacked Faramir's elvish ancestry, or perhaps it was because she was not fluent in Quenya, in which the songs were usually sung. She only hoped that she could manage not to nod off during the evening. She had no desire to insult their kind hosts.

000

The first piece of music was even worse than Éowyn had feared. The harpist was undoubtedly talented, but the music seemed to go on forever, praising the different shades of green in the spring woodland. Éowyn concluded that you would need the immortal lifespan of an Elf to have the time to count innumerable shades of green, let alone sing about them. She struggled not to fidget as what felt like hours passed. She applauded politely when the music ended. If only elvish music were more like that of her homeland, hearty tunes concerned with everyday activities such as riding or feasting.

Much to her surprise, Aragorn then rose to his feet and took the harpist's place. "Tonight I would like to remember an old friend who often graced this hall with his songs," he said. "Bilbo Baggins wrote songs that any elvish minstrel would be proud to sing. Tonight I will sing one of his favourites and mine."

Éowyn listened intently as Aragorn's fine bass voice sang, "_I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be when winter comes without a spring that I shall ever see_."

Suddenly tears pricked her eyes and she understood the reason for her melancholy. This place was a poignant reminder that even for Elves, all things change and pass away. This was Rivendell's autumn and it would not see a spring. Her life too, would reach its autumn sooner than the lives of her husband and the King and Queen.

Faramir glanced across at her. He reached out and took her hand. He gazed at her tenderly and she knew in that moment that he understood.

Maybe now that she understood, she could better enjoy the rest of her visit here. Éowyn realised that she was privileged to be one of the few in these latter days to enjoy the hospitality of the Last Homely House. She would try to cherish those memories of a unique experience.


End file.
